Conspiracy Nostyle

I like to drink juice

And it’s as simple as that

I did it once cause nonce was never enough

It’s conspiracy juice; once more, conspiracy juice

“I drink it in,” he said

I didn’t say shit, thinking; well, I wasn’t thinking

I assumed he thinked in free form so he liked his shit in tea form

Well he sold me on the reform; had it hold me like an acorn

He told me jokes that made little sense; the man who would later get me drinked on the stuff.

So he said this:

“So what do you call Caesar’s most trusted friend?”

And he said “Brute-lly honest.”

And I adjusted my tie.

And then he said:

“What do you call an ironic rainbow?”

And then he explained it as: “Gang warfare.”

And I immediately popped my collar.

The teeth of unrest

Lest microscopic flakes in it

The truth tasted used

It was what they drank of it

It was a cycle like fuck

A frightful rifle like fuck

It was a few things like fuck

No new things like fuck

Police Nostyle

I saw a policewoman who was a prism prison

She had twenty men inside of her

A couple dogs on her back, her back, her

Skin like bark, large; conflict writ larger

I walked around town feeling like the beginning of Bad Santa and the end of American Psycho

She waved a flag of unity to bring the rain down on me

I was terrified for my life

They stared down on, hit hard like rain

They knew I shouldn’t be here

They wondered how I got here

I could see those like her on her

Imagination like her father

And then on the corner across the street

I saw myself reading oblivionlessly

I was moving irrationally in an infinite loop

Reading a newspaper by a telephone booth

Voyeurism like conspiracy

No taste unlike before, ya know

They look at me, I watch myself

So what the fuck am I here for?

Why do I become what I... hate? Hate deplore?

So I cast hateplore all on the weirdness

There’s nothing more that I, you know, wanna learn

I’m drunk and genius; stupid and fearless

Yours truly, fucking the police

Genius NoStyle

I’m telling ya the next day, on the other hand

It was like divine comedy colliding with infinite jest

In the, uh, in a subway tunnel shaped like an ampersand

Outcrack the world’s plan for a master man

See I felt like the daddy of a paradoxiticical policewoman

I felt like I was living in the bell of the church of reflex

Just an introspective pinhead indecisive like a swingset

I mean, there was a fog, right; the kind of mystery that manifests

Got a pair of cement boots and three hats flatter than pamphlets

I got, uh, I got, uh; all I got is what the world made me into

I wondered aloud who was pulling the strings; who’s the baby eating flu?

I asked manifestations that rose from the ground who was in control

I couldn’t understand them because their faces were made of swamp

I saw in them the death of me and everything I had worked towards

I saw myself in the victims

Is what I’m trying to say

I didn’t help them because I felt that there were more pressing questions to be asked

I didn’t help myself because I was convinced that confusion was where to find my answers

I was in an empty bowling alley, driving around in a go cart breaking apart mannequins with a hockey stick

I was on the roof shooting red balloons that rose out of open manholes with the same white rifle I mentioned earlier

I used components of what they gave me to build a machine to make a new sort of sense

I marketed it in the fog; made a house out of a job

Like I like to drink juice

And it can be as simple as that